


Words from me to you

by Crystalogy



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Army, Bisexuality, Fear, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gay, Homophobia, Insecurity, Internal Conflict, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Letters, Love Letters, M/M, Male Friendship, Mental Breakdown, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Third Person, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, WW2 AU, War, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:34:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28719702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crystalogy/pseuds/Crystalogy
Summary: It is the year 1940 and, even though the war has been around for almost 7 months, it seems as if the world hasn’t accommodated yet to this new environment.Because of the dire need of men in the army, George and Clay get drafted and have to leave their homes in order to fight for and protect their countries. Neither of them thought that, working together in the trench will lead to much more than a simple one-time meeting.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 14





	1. Goodbye, my Paradise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ! READ FIRST !
> 
> ————
> 
> First time writing a fanfic! WOO!
> 
> I am pretty passionate about history and Minecraft, and when I realised the potential of a WW2 fanfic centred around Dream and George, I immediately started working on it.
> 
> Before we begin, I would like to address the fact that, even though this work is a WW2 AU/ WW2 inspired fan fiction, there will be certain aspects, such as battles or social-cultural issues, that will appear in the story. I took inspiration from a real event and adapted it to a AU centred around MCYT's and I couldn't ignore those topics because they play an essential role in the story T^T 
> 
> I do know that these could be triggering to some, so there will be a trigger warning at the beginning of the chapter, in case those events will appear.  
> Don’t read if you don’t feel comfortable! I will do my best to put a short and concise summary at the end of those specific chapters :D
> 
> Also, don't worry if some of the character mentioned above don't appear in the plot at first! They will sooner or later :)
> 
> I have a lot planned for this story! Hope you enjoy it! :)
> 
> ————
> 
> Thank you a lot @tbc_xeva for encouraging me to continue writing :D 
> 
> ————
> 
> Please, do NOT share this to other CC’s (even if they are not included in the story) in donations, comments and/or other sources.
> 
> Also, please, do NOT share any kind of plagiarised version of my work and/or upload it to other websites.

* * *

April 17, 1940 - The United Kingdom

* * *

╞═══ ✶ ═══╡

The sun was slowly climbing onto the dark blue sky, engulfing everything in a golden shimmer. The moon could be seen lowering itself, slowly drifting towards the horizon, letting the blinding glow of the morning take over the world.

Everything started roaring again, the soothing chirps of birds announcing the beginning of a new day in a small city from the United Kingdom.

The place slowly started to come back to life: local bakeries and markets opening their doors to their well-known customers, young boys running down the street to the printing house to commence their work, and families getting ready to eat breakfast together before their children went to school.

George wasn’t excited to wake up yet. He just wanted to sleep a tiny bit more before he was supposed to go to his university classes and his bed was way too comfortable to fight against his wish. Not even the rays of sunshine found a way to sneak into the brit’s room. It was as if an unknown force was holding him stuck to the mattress, telling him to not crawl out of his bed yet.

But, even though he was 20 years old - meaning he could technically make decisions of his own, he would still be woken up by the loud bangs on his bedroom door, sometimes accompanied by his mother shouting at him to wake up. It wasn’t something out of the ordinary as it might seem, this actually happening almost daily to the brunette, as well as today.

After he woke up - feeling a bit drowsy, he got dressed, prepared his book-bag for university and then headed downstairs to meet his parents for breakfast. However, just as he was hoping to have a peaceful day along with this family, cutting breakfast short in order to get to see his friends and classmates faster, he was met with silence from the two, already seated across from each other at the dinner table.

He noticed his mother holding the just printed newspaper, gasping in silence at the words that were staring back at her. As she was passing the journal to her husband, George decided to break the tension surrounding them.

“Good morning…”. The silence taking over the kitchen was still ringing in his ears.  
“Why are you staring so profusely at the newspaper? Did something important about the war happen?” he added as he sat down, trying to fish any kind of response from his parents.

“This happened”, his father said, throwing the stack of paper onto the table, slowly sliding towards his son.

George picked it up and, as he saw the first few words of the main article, he knew why the atmosphere was so still at the dinner table.  
“New recruiting campaign for the war? But didn’t they announce already that the National Army is at full capacity?” the brunette tried to argue, as if his cries could change the words printed on the paper, the already made and approved decisions.

“We assumed the same. I think almost everyone keeping up to date with this situation thought they wouldn’t recruit any more men. Guess we were wrong to assume that”, his father said, shrugging. “After all, almost anything is possible when it comes to war. Especially one of this grandeur”, the older man added.

The young brit looked at the press, sitting in front of him, no words able to escape his lips. He was perplexed with how he was feeling - a mix of fear and hope lingering at the bottom of his stomach. So many thoughts were running through his head, perturbing the silence that started to set again in the small kitchen.

But the stillness was rapidly broken, just as the older man started to speak again.

“They’ll arrange the stage in the Central Square, at 11 o'clock”, his father explained briefly. George glanced at the clock sitting on the wall facing him - 9:27 in the morning.

“You should stay home for now and forget about your classes. We’ll work those absences out. Alright, honey?” his mother told him so softly and full of sympathy. Her son was fighting back the tears he didn’t think he was holding in up until that moment.

“Now, let’s eat! And, after breakfast, we can prepare a bag of clothes and such, in case you get recruited”, the woman said with a shaky voice, fear slowly starting to overwhelm her as well, but still putting up a facade in order to not bring more stress onto her child.

Breakfast went by faster than expected and, just as George was ready to take a glance at the clock, his father broke his train of thought.

“Shall we go to your room and prepare your bag? If you do get drafted, you won’t be able to come back and pack up so quickly”. His son nodded absent-mindedly, using all the positivity he had left in him to try and keep an optimistic mindset.

╞═══ ✶✶ ═══╡

11 o’clock rolled around and the Central Square was crowded with men from all the few districts of the city. Parents, siblings, lovers or friends of theirs surrounded the outer lines of the plaza, all awaiting the moment when the announcement would begin.

The buzz of the crowd started dying down when two men, one dressed in a full-on black suit and the other in heavy military uniform, climbed onto the small stage, set up in the middle of the square. The former announced their entrance, explaining that he was the spokesman and that he will be reading out the names of the recruited men from the Government-approved list.

“Before we continue with the procedure, I would like to present you to General Officer Jamieson. He will become your closest friend in war - helping you train and become a true man - in order to protect our country from the enemies”, the black-suited delegate said, pride filling his voice - especially towards the end of his sentence. “Now. Shall we begin?”.

╞═══ ✶✶✶ ═══╡

Name after name, George was getting more and more confident that he won’t be drafted.

_‘Usually guys coming from poorer families composed of many children, where they happen to be the oldest, get chosen', he thought to himself. ‘I am from a middle-class family, and I am an only child, so, theoretically speaking, there is a very small chance that I will get called’_

As he was ending his train of thought, a smile stretched across his face. Unfortunately, his grin flattened out when he heard his name. He snapped back to reality, quickly realising, based on the slightly angered tone of the man's voice, this was the second time the spokesman shouted his name, so he responded with a quick “Here, Sir!”, throwing his left hand in the air, trying to find a way out of the sea of men.

He was moving towards the centre of the square when he saw, with the corner of his eye, his parents embracing each other - noticing his mother’s shoulders making little jumps as she was sobbing into her husband’s chest and the male trying to comfort her, patting softly her back.

This scene looked like it was torn out of a movie. The cliché where the main character of the story is put into a situation they have no way of escaping.

This is how George was feeling. Like the protagonist that was forced to break his parents’ hearts, against his will.

╞═══ ✶✶✶✶ ═══╡

The walk back home was a very foggy memory to George. All he remembers is him sitting in front of the train at the main station, much later.

Noise filled his ears - parents hugging and wishing their sons the best, siblings saying their tearful ‘goodbyes’ to their older brothers and young women crying loudly in the chests of their boyfriends, opposing the situation completely, trying to stop them from getting on the train with sobs and pleads.

To an outsider it sounded like chaos. But for the brunette and many others, it was a symphony that soothed their pain.

Alas, George was brought back to reality by his mother’s soft gasps for air.

“We wish you the best, son”, his father told him proudly. “You’ll make it out alive. I am sure of that”. The younger gave him a shaky smile and the older man hugged him softly, forcing the brunette to try and not open the gates to the tears he’s been holding back ever since that morning, in order to look brave in front of his parents.  
“George... Dear. I hope you send us letters from over there. We’ll be waiting for them. Day and night”, his mother said overwhelmed with emotion, pulling him into a tight hug, tears starting to fall down the frail woman’s cheeks.

George felt protected in his mother’s arms. He wished he could go back home and sleep another 5 minutes or go to university and talk to his colleagues. But that was an unachievable reality right now. And he had to learn to swallow that, as fast as possible, whether it would be easy or hard to.

Their embrace was broken by the younger boy when the horns announced the departure of the train shortly. He wiped the woman’s tears and placed a gentle ‘goodbye’ kiss on her wet cheek.  
“I am so sorry you have to go through this”, he said calmly, letting one tear drip down his face.

_‘God… Please... Give me more minutes to live in Paradise’_

He turned towards the train and, as he was about to step foot into it, his mother grabbed his arm and turned him around to face her.

“Oh! I almost forgot”, she said with a shaky and raspy voice, handing him a silver locket. “If you ever feel like you can’t take it anymore or miss home, just remember to look inside the locket”. George looked at the small treasure, took it and placed it in one of his pockets. He looked at the woman standing in front of him and hugged her tighter than before, the waves of tears finally escaping his eyes.

_‘Thank you’_

“Everyone get on! The train is leaving now!”. The announcement could be heard in the distance, coming from one of the conductors, slowly getting more and more irritated that they were running late.

* * *

And, thus, this is how George finds himself, a few minutes later, dozing off to sleep: in a foreign train headed to the unknown, watching the fields of poppies pass by.

_‘Goodbye, my Paradise’_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter!
> 
> There's a lot more to come so stay tuned! :D
> 
> ————
> 
> A couple of things before you go:
> 
> \- I will post every week or so (sometimes new chapters will come out faster or slower, depending on how busy am I with school stuff)  
> \- I am sorry for any mistakes made - English isn't my first language :p  
> \- I am opened to hearing anything from ideas to thoughts/opinions/criticism or just a hello, so I encourage you to leave a comment :D  
> \- Stay awesome ~✩


	2. The dark future of the morning light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ! READ FIRST ! 
> 
> ————
> 
> Can't believe I got to 25 hits and 4 kudos so far! I honestly didn't think my fan-fic is going to gain any attention, but it did!
> 
> Thank you so much to every single one of you that has read my first chapter! I hope you enjoyed it :D
> 
> ALSO,
> 
> I HAVE FINALLY FINISHED THE CHAPTER! One more and I can get into the main plot, with many more characters and much more action :]
> 
> ————
> 
> Please, do NOT share this to other CC’s (even if they are not included in the story) in donations, comments and/or other sources.
> 
> Also, please, do NOT share any kind of plagiarised version of my work and/or upload it to other websites.

* * *

September 25, 1940 - The United States of America

* * *

╞═══ ✶ ═══╡

The sun had just begun to rise, but the unbearable summer heat was hitting hard the room in which the 19 year-old tried to sleep. Golden rays pierced through his curtains, aiming to land on the boy’s face, trying to wake him up to no avail. He forced his eyes shut, trying to get 5 more minutes of peace.

But before he could even attempt to do that, his bedroom’s door was flung wide open by his two younger siblings. In the door frame sat his little sister, watching her tall, drowsy brother tossing and turning in his warm bed, and his little brother, giggling softly at the scene that his sister uncovered.

“Morning Claaay”, the blonde girl said loudly, putting emphasis on lengthening the ‘a’ in his name to try and annoy him a little.

“How come you’re not ready for school yet? It’s almost 9 o’clock”, she pointed out in a comical manner, crossing her arms in fake annoyance. Everybody in the house knew that Clay was a sleep-lover, and he wore that as a badge of honor.

“Get out of my room!” the oldest mumbled at his sister, still laying in his bed, looking towards the ceiling. “I will be downstairs in 10-15 minutes. Don’t worry, I will walk you to school Dris”, he told his little sister calmly, reassuring her that the blonde will be able to take her to school.

After he made his point clear, the younger ones disappeared from his door frame, each going either to the kitchen to help with breakfast or to their room to finish preparing for the school day.

He left his comfortable bed, a bit later than expected, but it didn’t bother him very much. He quickly got dressed, gathered all the books and notebooks he needed for school messily in his backpack, and went around the other bedrooms to check if any of his younger siblings were still getting prepared.

Knocking from door to door, he stumbles upon Drista’s room, from the inside of which he could hear a shout, assuring him she was almost ready. After hearing that, he headed downstairs where his family was quietly waiting for the two of them in order to eat breakfast.

“Morning everyone!” he said grinning, and the room was immediately awakened at the sound of his voice. It was as if Clay radiated optimism through his words.

“Good morning sweetie!” his mother spoke first. “Take a seat. Would you like some pancakes?”. He nodded almost immediately, which made the woman giggle a bit in return, breaking the silence that had taken over the kitchen.

Soon enough, the youngest siblings took their designated seats at the table, alongside his older sister. His father had already left for work early in the morning, working at the local bakery and having to serve customers early in the day. 

There was only one seat at the table that seemed as if it didn’t belong to anyone. So long had the chair been pushed against the table that fine layers of dust started to cover it slowly.

Clay started to stare at it and Anna, his older sister, caught fast onto that.

“I know you miss him, but if you stare at his chair that doesn’t mean he’ll appear in front of us out of nowhere”, Anna said, trying to sound casual, as if sadness wasn’t filling her voice.

She knew Clay loved his older brother very much. They did almost anything together and as they grew older, he became Clay’s mentor. 

The day his best friend and counsellor got drafted into the army he cried for hours on end. Anna didn’t think she would ever see her younger brother as broken as he was back then, shedding tears without any sign of stopping.

“Yeah… You’re right”. He paused for a second before continuing, “I didn’t realise I was staring. I was just thinking that I wished he’d be back already. We haven’t received any letter from him for the past 3 days at this point!”. He paused again, taking a breath of air before carrying on with his thoughts. This time feeling sadness and fear overwhelming him. “What if he is… you know?”.

He looked up to his sister and saw her sigh. 

“Just because we didn’t receive a letter, that doesn’t mean he is dead”, the young woman said gently. “Listen. If you go on thinking like that, you will always live in fear. Please, don’t give it that much thought. He is fine, most probably busy with training”, she tried to reassure Clay.

“We will get a letter from him soon, okay? Trust me on that one”, she said, smiling softly.

She glanced at the blonde man looking for any kind of reaction, but he had his head buried in the plate as if he was searching for grains of sand hidden in between the layers of pancakes. 

“Ok. I am sorry for overthinking. I am just very worried”, he said slowly, taking a bite out of the syrupy pastries. 

╞═══ ✶✶ ═══╡

When the whole family started discussing different topics after finishing breakfast, there was a knock on the door. His mother got up to go and check who was knocking, but Clay rushed to open the door, hoping it was the postman. Unfortunately, it sadly turned out it was his best friend and neighbour Nick, or, as the blonde liked to call him, Sapnap. 

“Morning Dreamie!” Nick said, making a kissy face, while trying his best not to burst out laughing.

The raven haired boy gave the blonde the nickname of ‘Dream’ because he started “haunting” Nick in his dreams, making an appearance in almost all of them over a long period of time. The older boy denied this supernatural phenomenon, thinking that it was most probably due to how much time they spent together.

“Morning to you too, dumbass”, Clay responded quickly so his mother wouldn’t pick up on the swear. “Why did you decide to come to my house during this beautiful morning?” he asked, with a bit of annoyance flooding the timbre of his voice.

“I have good news and bad news. Which one would you like first?” he asked. “Also, could I step in? Not only do I look weird to other neighbours standing in your door frame, but I think your mother wants to hear this as well.”

“Uh… Sure. Also, good news always first”. Clay welcomed him inside his house and announced the others that Nick was visiting for a little.

Before he could ask his friend what the news was, the raven haired boy engaged in a conversation with his mother that resulted in him explaining everything.

“So, as I was saying, I have good news and bad news”, Nick continued to talk, everybody at the table eyeing him, curiosity filling their eyes. 

“First and foremost, the good news. Today has been decided, by the local administration, that students should take a day off school”. When he finished this phrase, the youngest duo started cheering and laughing, happy that they wouldn’t have to go to classes for the day.

“This is cool and all, but why today? There is no National Celebration of any sort today”, Clay pointed out a bit confused, trying to understand the reasoning behind the decision.

“I know. But this is where the bad news comes into play”. Nick sighed a little before he continued. 

“They are launching another drafting campaign, Clay. And this time they decided to recruit any man that is 18 or older, unlike last time”, he said, clenching his teeth as he was awaiting the reaction of his best friend to the terrible reveal.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter!
> 
> I will try to post the 3rd chapter as soon as possible as to give me more time to script the plot for the next adventures I have planned :] 
> 
> ————
> 
> A couple of things before you go:
> 
> \- I will post every week or so (sometimes new chapters will come out faster or slower, depending on how busy am I with school stuff)  
> \- I am sorry for any mistakes made - English isn't my first language :p  
> \- I am opened to hearing anything from ideas to thoughts/opinions/criticism or just a hello, so I encourage you to leave a comment :D  
> \- Stay awesome ~✩


	3. Fear, sweat and coal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ! READ FIRST ! 
> 
> ————
> 
> First of all,
> 
> OH WOW. I DIDN'T EXPECT THIS FANFIC TO GET TO 100 HITS. YOU GUYS ARE AWESOME :D
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this! It really makes my day :)
> 
> Second of all,
> 
> I am SO sorry for the wait! I had a lot of stuff to deal with at school and I have some new exams to study for. But, don't you fret! I will try to add chapters as regularly as possible. Hopefully once a week :')
> 
> ————
> 
> Please, do NOT share this to other CC’s (even if they are not included in the story) in donations, comments and/or other sources.
> 
> Also, please, do NOT share any kind of plagiarised version of my work and/or upload it to other websites.

* * *

Clay stood still, almost breathless, trying to process what Nick had just told him. 

_‘This must be a joke’_ , he thought. _‘There is no way this is real. They just had a drafting campaign a few months ago when James got recruited’_. 

His mind was running 100 miles per hour and he couldn’t pause for a second. 

Time stopped for the blonde, but not for the people around him, still awaiting for any kind of reaction.

“Hello? Are you alive? Did your brain explode from the shock?”, Nick asked, scared that his usual laid back friend was staring into the void, with a blank expression on his face.

“I am still breathing, as you can see”, Clay says sarcastically, snapping back to reality. “It’s just that I really am shocked that they would start drafting for the war again”.

He added with a low, trembling voice, “I don’t want to go there. I wanna stay here, with everyone...”.

“Darling...”, his mother softly speaks up. “We can’t protect you in this situation, as much as we would want to...”. 

She paused for a second, letting out a deep sigh and trying to hold back the tears that were already welling up in her eyes, “If you get chosen to go to war, don’t think of it as them trying to take you away from us… I understand your pain when James got recru-- ”

Before the woman could finish her sentence, the taller man interrupted, lashing out at her, “You have **_no_** idea what I went through back then. You have **_no_** idea how much I hate those people that took him away, for the sole purpose of proudly dying protecting the country. They **_took_** him away from the family and all we could do is cry about it, as if we were already mourning his death. I will not let that happen again. Not to us”, he finished abruptly, rushing towards the stairs which were leading to his room.

“And what are you going to do about this whole situation? Are you going to run away and hide?” Nick intervened, annoyed at how poorly his best friend was managing the circumstances. 

_‘You’re making a fool of yourself, Clay. Stop letting your emotions take control of you’_

He continued, “Do you remember that this is how your older brother reacted when he was faced with this news? I don’t think so”, he added with a serious tone.

The raven haired boy stood up from the table, walked towards Clay who was frozen half way up the stairs, and placed a hand on his right shoulder. 

He started speaking again, in a more peaceful tone, “I know it’s hard to comprehend and fully grasp the situation you are in, but you are acting like this is the end of the world. You are acting as if you already know that you will be drafted”.

“But I know I will, Sap” the blonde added with a shaky voice and tears welling up in his eyes. “I know I will be drafted b-because I meet all the requirements: I am 19 years old and I come from a big family in which I am the oldest child, m-more specifically the oldest son”, he told him, soft sobs escaping his throat.

“Even if you are within these criterias, that doesn’t mean you will be on the list. You have to understand that. Plus, I don’t think it is a good idea to run and hide away from the Government when it comes to serious business like this”, he said before hugging the taller man, smiling into his shoulder. 

“You will be fine, even if you do get recruited or not, because you are very strong, Clay. And when you are put in difficult situations, you always find a way to get out of them at the end of the day”, he added.

If the taller man wasn’t already shocked by the news, now he was fully dumbfounded after everything that his best friend said. 

“Like all of those absences you had to give explanation to without your parents finding out, because you decided to skip classes”, the shorter boy said snickering, quickly earning a slap on his back from the other man. 

He continued, “If you do get drafted though, I will come to the military camp you would be assiged to and murder you with my bare hands if you don’t send letters back home”

The two started giggling softly, fear slowly melting out of Clay’s bones. He enjoyed all the times when he and Nick would laugh with no worries in the world, but he knew that this could be the last time for a while.

His best friend breaking the embrace startled Clay a little, but he soon collected his thoughts, looked to him and asked, “When and where?”.

“In the Central Plaza as usual. That’s the place where everything remotely important is happening, after all”, he added, rolling his eyes subtly. “And, to answer your question completely, it will happen at 12 o’clock”.

The blonde looked back at his mother and took her by surprise by hugging her. She started giggling and her son apologised for his breakout earlier, spewing how immature he was and how he didn’t think his words through.

The woman reassured him, “Sweetheart, I am not mad about it. I fully understand why you are so hesitant about this whole deal. But, Nick is correct. You can’t run away from this so take it like a real man. Just like your brother took it”.

_“Follow into his footsteps, just like you were doing when you were younger. Just like his little apprentice”_

When she finished talking, she felt warmth on her shoulder, quickly realising the source of it: small tears dripping down her son’s rosy cheeks, seeping into the thin material of her dress. She hugged the taller man tighter, trying to convey as much love as she could in that embrace, knowing that no words can thoroughly explain what she was feeling.

After coming down from the high to emotions he was experiencing just a minute ago, Clay stepped back and gathered all of his thoughts. He looked back at her and said, “Shouldn’t we go pack up? We have some important errands to attend”.

╞═══ ✶ ═══╡

It wasn’t noon yet but the Central Square was already full of people. And more were coming. Boys can be seen waving their families ‘goodbye’, before stepping into the sea of people aligned in front of the massive white stage, on which there were only a microphone and a small wooden table. 

The constant murmuring coming from the crowds stopped as soon as a group of well-built men stepped into the large plaza. Everybody quickly assumed they were the ones sent by the military to make the honors. And how couldn’t they guess that? The stone attitude paired with the khaki uniforms the men were wearing were hard not to be recognised.

╞═══ ✶✶ ═══╡

Clay couldn’t recall what happened throughout most of the affair that took place. He knew that two of the soldiers took leadership of the assembly and presented themselves and the issue at hand. He couldn’t care less, paying little to no attention to what was happening around him as if ignorance was going to save him from getting drafted.

“We will begin calling the names from the list. In case you hear yours, please do come forwards and go to my colleagues to the right. They will arrange you into groups, and at the end of the meeting we will give you more information regarding where and when we will meet in order to leave for the military base”. After the soldier made the announcement, the countdown began.

╞═══ ✶✶✶ ═══╡

When names began being called, Clay started counting how many men had been drafted. He didn’t know why he was counting. It wasn’t as if he knew how many recruits the army needed. But, he was scared. He was trying to calm down by assuring himself that if the number was getting higher and higher, his chances were getting lower and lower.

The spokesman shouted the next name, “Karl Jacobs! Come to the front, please”, the blonde stopped counting and, a few moments later, he could see the shorter brunette slowly making his way towards the stage, fear taking control of his body. 

Clay stared at the figure sailing through the sea of people trying to remember why his name seemed so familiar to him. He heard it before for sure, but he couldn’t figure out when, where and from who. However, this moment of thought didn’t last long, as he soon was brought back to reality by the sudden movement of a man next to him - a call to resume counting.

_‘Number 127’,_ he thought, less and less fearful.

_And soon enough..._

“Please come to the stage!”

_…he heard his own name being called._

╞═══ ✶✶✶✶ ═══╡

“Thank you for coming today. This was only one of the few draftings that the army has planned, due to the worsening situation in Europe”, the spokesman said loudly, keeping his voice as stable as possible. 

“We wish our new recruits the best of luck in the upcoming missions!”.

╞═══ ✶✶✶✶✶ ═══╡

After the assembly ended, Clay spotted where Nick and his mother were seated. And, as he was walking closer to the spot, he couldn’t help but notice his best friend trying to comfort the sobbing woman standing next to him on the bench. 

The blonde stopped dead in his tracks, feeling as if the scene uncovering in front of him was fiction. Nevertheless, he soon found himself being embraced by his mother, sobs escaping the woman’s lips, her heart not able to endure anymore pain. More tears were dripping down her cheeks than before, leaving red trails behind, but the streams of tears were broken by the blonde’s hands brushing them off.

“I am so sorry, Clay… So sorry...”, his mother said, deep sighs escaping her mouth every now and then, unable to compose herself yet, due to the rush of emotions overtaking her.

“Mom… It’s okay. I will be fine. I promise that…”, tightening the hug as he spoke.

Everything was still. He was only paying attention to the heartbeats and small gasps of air of the small woman he was embracing. He didn’t want to leave her, his father or his siblings behind. He didn’t want them to have to pray for him daily that he would still be alive by the next morning.

As he rose his head from his mother’s shoulder, he realised Nick was nowhere in sight, however, he soon noticed him talking to Karl a few feet away from him. He still hadn’t remembered who that guy is, but he knew he wasn’t nobody. Otherwise, his best friend wouldn’t have tears trailing down his face because of a stranger.

╞═══ ✶✶✶✶✶✶ ═══╡

Minutes passed, young men were leaving the plaza, either thanking God for their luck or cursing the destiny that was put upon them, and Clay along with the other 3 were now standing on a bench, on the sidelines of the square.

“Clay, I know you might not remember him”, said Nick with a raspy voice, “but he is Karl. He is one of my best friends from school, even though he is almost 2 years older than me”. He continued, “I did tell you about him a couple of times before, but you might have forgotten about him. We’re not in the same school, so it is understandable”.

The blonde looked at the shorter boy and held his hand out.

“I am Clay. Nice to finally meet you Karl!” the taller said, trying his best to radiate optimism and show not a single sign of sadness. First impressions do matter at the end of the day.

He shook his hand and in return he said, “Hi. Nice to meet you too”. 

They proceeded to exchange a few facts about each other and lighten the mood a little. However, this moment was short lasting, being interrupted by the clocktower’s bell announcing 1 o’clock in the afternoon.

“We should get going”, the brunette said, gesturing towards the clock. “We’re supposed to be at the train station at 1:30”.

“That is true”, Nick added and the woman started nodding, not having to say a word for Clay to understand that she was fully agreeing with his best friend. 

“I guess so...”, the disappointment in the taller’s voice being more and more noticeable.

“But before we go”, he added in a serious but friendly tone at the same time. “Karl. Could you please swear an oath with me?”.

The brunette looked a bit confused, but he nodded, willing to do it.

The blonde took the shorter’s hand and intertwined their pinkies together.

Then, he began, “Let’s swear an oath that whatever happens in the trenches, we will never give in. Let’s swear an oath that we will fight for seeing our families once again after war”. He took a deep breath before continuing, “We only have each other, so are you willing to do this?”

The boy shook his head, and that is when they began shaking their pinkies to seal the oath.

* * *

_An oath that will soon become the coal to their burning desire for freedom_

* * *

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter!
> 
> I can dive into the actual plot of the story - expect some British action soon :D
> 
> ————
> 
> A couple of things before you go:
> 
> \- I will post every week or so (sometimes new chapters will come out faster or slower, depending on how busy am I with school stuff)  
> \- I am sorry for any mistakes made - English isn't my first language :p  
> \- I am opened to hearing anything from ideas to thoughts/opinions/criticism or just a hello, so I encourage you to leave a comment :D  
> \- Stay awesome ~✩


	4. Wishes and sandy beaches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ! READ FIRST !
> 
> ————
> 
> TW // Small mentions of blood 
> 
> ————
> 
> First of all,
> 
> I AM NOT DEAD! :D 
> 
> I have been gone for quite a while but I am back after a long time of finishing those school assignments. Hopefully you won't come with pitchforks after me :,)
> 
> Second of all,
> 
> I have 3 surprises for you guys:
> 
> 1\. There is now a Discord Server where I am a featured writer! - aka you can join the server, choose my name and many others' from the Featured Authors role menu and instantly subscribe to updates, or chat with other readers - and even me :) - and write theories and such!  
> \- This is super exciting because I haven't been able as of recently to work on my own Discord Server so this is going to be the first stage towards achieving my dream of having my own server :D  
> > link to the server: https://discord.gg/f42e8V9dQD - Have fun!  
> 2\. I have updated my AO3 profile! If you ever wanna read a quick "Fun Facts" about me, go to my profile :D
> 
> 3\. **locked** ( will be revealed soon :)
> 
> ————
> 
> Please, do NOT share this to other CC’s (even if they are not included in the story) in donations, comments and/or other sources.
> 
> Also, please, do NOT share any kind of plagiarised version of my work and/or upload it to other websites.

* * *

The 28 of May, 1940

╞═══ ✶ ═══╡

The city of Dunkirk was immersed in a sea of darkness, the flickering rays of the Moon high above not able to penetrate the thick wall of clouds that covered the star. The smell of gunpowder was still laying in the air, as if guns have just started firing, bombs targeting the deserted beach and troops yelling commands left and right. The tension was cuttable with a knife and the amalgamation of words from both English and German soldiers didn’t help the already terrified British men to calm down. Many of them were either running down the seafront - in a desperate attempt to find a safe place to take cover from the never-ending air raids - or facing the enemies with full determination to put a stop to the battle.

From all the yelling coming from every side - left, right, front and back - only a man’s voice was recognisable enough to every soldier to pay attention to: General Schlatt’s.

His commands were ripping the air in half, creating a one-way communication system. He didn’t care much about what he received from the other end of the line, due to the fact that, in his own reasoning, if soldiers got the commands they had to follow, his job was done.

Even if there were any soldier to oppose his way of managing a fight, he wouldn’t be able to speak his mind because of the fear he has for this man.

General Schlatt is one of the many man that the United States Army could offer, but his rough and stone-cold attitude, alongside some impressive skills at intimidating his men to follow the rules imposed by their higher-up, made him shine among all others. Thus, in the spring of 1940, he got a notice in which he was announced that he will be assigned to one of the British Army’s bases, in order to put every soldier on the same page, especially because many of them were relatively new to the system.

Along side these new recruits, there was George. He didn’t remark himself in any way possible: he was physically weak, and weaker mentally. His General would even call him an underdog - the brunette always trying to prove his strength, but never doing so. And, even thought George was being made fun of in the military, by both his higher-up but also his mates, he found one comrade that never accepted that kind of treatment towards him: a tall man, around the same age as George he could tell, that never wanted to cut his locks of hair just because it was a rule.

That person was Wilbur.

╞═══ ✶ ✶ ═══╡

The abominable sound of gunshots ceased early in the morning, giving the British soldiers hope that they were no longer under attack by the German Army. Even the sun seemed to shine a little brighter than yesterday, fighting the waves of clouds that gathered to cover it.

George woke up in a covered place, most likely one of those many metal boats that was turned upside down. As he slowly started to fully come to his senses, he could grasp the whole imagery that was playing in front of him.

The so-called “safe place” didn’t look as much of a safe place. There were holes everywhere, either from gunshots, grenades or rust eating away at the metal, all of these crating a beautiful play of lighting in the low-lit area. The dull smell of sea water mixed with the well-known and fresh odour of gunpowder made the brunette believe he was just living a bad dream, in reality waiting to wake up and go to another day at university.

But, soon did he realise that what he thought to be a dream, was the real world. A black and white world he was trapped in, fighting for his life in order to live only for another day. A world where the unknown was not something admitted on the trenches, where only one winner will prevail.

“George!” a man, also taking cover under the boat, said in surprise. “Are you alright? Do you hurt anywhere?” he continued, shuffling over from the corner where he was sitting and walking towards the brunette. His eyes were full of fear, happiness and uncertainty.

“Ugh… My head hurts so bad” George said, slowly getting up, sitting down with his knees glued to his chest. He shook his head a little, “Wilbur? Is that you? My mind is too hazy to even recognise who I am speaking to…”, he said, snickering, a little in disbelief.

The taller man kneeled next to George, sitting in a way so that he could support his weight in case he would lose consciousness again.

“Yes, I am Wilbur”, the taller said while he took the other man’s arm, twisting it around, and checking it from every side possible. “You lost consciousness on the beach. I believe that was from the amount of stress and tiredness you were experiencing”, Wilbur continued, removing a bloody bandage the shorter male had on his arm. “As soon as I saw you laying down on the sand, I rushed in, thinking you might be dead. But when I got next to you, I noticed you still had a pulse, even after all the blood loss from the _GODDAMN_ gash you have on your lower arm”, he said while bandaging the wound again, paying close attention not to infect the area with all the gunk that was on his own fingers and around them.

“Damn… Did I really pass out from exhaustion?” the shorter man said, laughing weakly at his own phrase. “I really am that frail, aren’t I? I should have never been drafted. I don’t even have an important role! I am a pawn of the many that only carry guns and shoot the enemies. But, you Wilbur, you are a medic. You save our lives. You have a real purpose, unlike me…”. George spluttered that phrase, avoiding eye contact with the taller man that was still working to tie his clean bandage.

After a long period of silence, in which Wilbur didn’t look away from the wounded’s arm, he finally finished his job, rose up and turned to face the other brit. He looked so small, all curled up in his little spot that was slowly lighting up as the sun was breaking out of the fortress of clouds above.

 _‘What fear can make of a once strong man’_ , Wilbur thought as he slowly put an arm on the other man’s shoulder, and finally locking eyes with him.

He sighed, “George. Just because I am a medic that doesn’t mean that I am superior to you. While I am the one that comes to your aid and helps you and treats you, I can’t fully protect everyone. I can’t protect people from danger, I can only treat them if danger does harm them”. He smiled weakly, not even sure if he believed in these words.

_‘Please get this idea out your head already. You’re not worthl—‘_

“But I am worthless after all! I am one soldier among a sea of others! And all I can do is go and kill those around me that are considered the enemies. I am only meant to take the lives of men that were dragged in this whole mess, most of them against their will. To ruin that person’s life by inducing constant fear about whether or not he will live in the next few minutes. A family’s hopes and wishes just through the fact that they won’t receive their son’s or father’s letters, instead a notice from the Army that their man died with honour in the trenches”

He stopped talking for a minute, letting the silence envelop the both of them. Then, all that George could feel was the warmth of Wilbur hug heating up his chest and back, melting away his worries.

“I am sorry that you were forced to do this… I didn’t want this either, but I didn’t have a choice”, the taller said, voice trembling with emotion, but trying to steady it as he spoke. Wilbur broke the hug and took seat next to the brit, “There is no need to rush. You have to take it easy now because you’re not fully awake and I don’t want to bandage anymore wounds of yours”, he said smiling faintly at his comrade. George nodded slowly, returning the smile to Wilbur who looked even more worried than before, but he didn't question it. Instead, he took a deep breath and decided to take the other's brit advice and slow down, both his thoughts and his worries.

╞═══ ✶ ✶ ✶ ═══╡

As the rays of the morning light fully engulfed each and every cavity around the battlefield, the two soldiers were sitting there in complete silence, waiting for any sign of hope that someone would come and save them or a far lost battle cry - announcing the beginning of another day of war. Wilbur was staring at nothing, thinking at how he wished that the war was already over. Wishing that George would be free of any worries, any fears, any pain. Wishing he could go back home and pursue his dream of becoming a well-known musician, travelling far and wide to sing and strum his guitar to many future fans of him. Wishing his dream would give him a chance to go back and save her.

* * *

Wishing he could write just another letter to her before he died.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter!
> 
> I am going to introduce so many characters with these chapters inspired by the battle of Dunkirk and I really hope you will enjoy :]
> 
> ————
> 
> A couple of things before you go:
> 
> \- I will post every week or so (sometimes new chapters will come out faster or slower, depending on how busy am I with school stuff)  
> \- I am sorry for any mistakes made - English isn't my first language :p  
> \- I am opened to hearing anything from ideas to thoughts/opinions/criticism or just a hello, so I encourage you to leave a comment :D  
> \- Stay awesome ~✩


End file.
